


Hypnotizing and demoralizing

by theycallmesuperboy



Series: Resolution from disillusion [1]
Category: All New X-Factor, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3714670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theycallmesuperboy/pseuds/theycallmesuperboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After spending twenty-nine years apart, having been separated at birth, the twins have grown into vastly different people, living vastly different lives. Pietro is the CEO of Serval Industries, a company specializing in “helping people”, and having tracked Wanda down, finds that she’s now a prostitute living in New Orleans. So naturally, he hires her. <i>To talk.</i> But these things never really go that way, do they? Nobody ever hires a hooker <i>just to talk.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hypnotizing and demoralizing

**Author's Note:**

> hA so literally the first thing in the document is "because I'm fucked up" because I really am. I don't know what's wrong with me really, or how I even came up with this idea in the first place?? I started this so long ago (6 months) that we didn't have anything on the twins from AOU except set photos from Italy. And so I realize their personalities are likely different than in the movie, but I pictured Aaron and Lizzie as the twins anyway. But I referenced a lot of characters from All New X-Factor because I was somewhat in love with the series when I started writing this. 
> 
> Thanks to the amazing [Emily](http://amunras.tumblr.com), my best friend, who originally was just gonna help a bit with the sex stuff, but also helped with the rest of it because Savvy's computer died.

“No. No, that’ll be all.” A pen scribbling on paper. The rustle of papers on the desk in front of him, glossy framed photos featuring one particular woman, in some of which she had dyed green hair. “My secretary will wire you your final fee. And the extra for your discretion.” The click of a phone call ending. More papers rustling, lose photographs taken from a distance. 

Another phone call. This time, the woman from the frames, whose impatient voice came through the line almost even before he’d clicked ‘answer.’ “So? Did you find her?” she questioned, almost breathless. He couldn’t tell if that was because she’d been climbing stairs instead of taking the elevators like usual, or because she was actually anticipating the answer. He knew, either way, she’d be in his office within minutes.

“Yes,” he said, almost with a sigh. The shock of this all had reduced him to sights and sounds and exhaustion. 

“Where is she? What’s she been up to? Who _is_ she?” she fired off, and he could hear the impatient click of her heels through the phone as she hurried down the hall. 

“Louisiana.” Prostitute. That part he didn’t say aloud. “I’m going alone, Lorna, don’t follow me, alright? She was _my_ sister first.”

* * *

Pietro Maximoff was one of the richest men in the world under thirty, although he was pushing it at twenty-nine. That’s what happens when one starts a business that specializes in “ _helping people_ ” before they even graduate college, and then employ their half sister who had the determination and ruthlessness to actually pull it off. That’s not to say Pietro didn’t have a significant contribution to his company- he _was_ Serval Industries. But his entire life, he’d felt like he’d been missing _something_ , and finally, having unsealed his original birth certificate in college, he’d discovered he had a twin sister separated from him at birth. 

It wasn’t until now that he’d had the chance to track her down, hiring an entire team of private investigators to find her. What he’d found he’d been less than thrilled about. Wanda Frank, as he’d discovered her name was, was apparently a prostitute living in New Orleans. They’d provided pictures to prove it and- she was beautiful. She looked like him, almost, but with dark hair instead of his pale blond. His sister was what he’d been missing his whole life, his _twin_. 

Even if she did linger on shady street corners, dressed to attract attention in thigh-high red boots, hopping into men’s cars for the evening.

As soon as he hung up the phone, in the few minutes it took Lorna to get to his office- later lecturing him on _being sensitive, Pietro, she doesn’t know us_ \- he booked a flight to the Crescent City. 

He wasn’t stupid, even talking with her was going to cost, he couldn’t just tell her right there on the street- so he packed several thousand dollars in an envelope among his suits and shoes. Debating whether or not to take her files, he ultimately decided to, since, well… he needed something to do on the plane. So he tucked the large manilla envelope containing Wanda’s files and photos, between important files on his upcoming merger, into his briefcase. He was taking the company plane, so “booked” didn’t really mean the same thing it meant to other people. More like “told Linda to tell the pilot to have the plane ready by noon tomorrow” and then have his driver take him where he wanted to go. 

By the next afternoon, Pietro realized he’d wasted an entire day, and he hadn’t even touched the copies of the merger files still on his desk. He spent the morning on the treadmill at the office, and had lunch with his secretary in the restaurant three floors down, his thoughts too occupied by his upcoming trip to really pay much attention to whatever Linda was prattling on about. Staring out the window at the bright mid-morning sun, he thought, _I need something stronger than this lemonade_ , and wondered how much Linda would judge him if he actually called for one. Probably too much for her own good, but. In the end, he stuck with the lemonade, judging that he should be in control of his facilities for later that evening. And if he needed a drink later, then, well, no one could judge him. 

Hours later, the plane landed as he looked out the window, the golden light nearly blinding him as they descended. Pietro didn’t much care. He sighed as they followed the usual flight protocols, and simply continued staring out the window until the plane finally stopped and the door was opened for him. The car was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and his luggage was being placed in the trunk, so he straightened his jacket and climbed down the steps. 

“Mr. Maximoff,” the driver greeted, opening the door for him. Pietro nodded, and slid inside, the driver heading towards his booked hotel nearly as soon as the door was shut. Pietro took the time to pull the card Lorna had given him out of his left breast pocket. The business card was unusual in two ways: one, it was an actual playing card, the seven of spades; and two, it almost seemed to glow magenta in the fading light from the window. 

Lorna had given it to him when she came to his office the previous day, telling him to find the man to whom the card belonged if he needed any help on anything that was, well, less than legal while in the city. She probably sensed he wasn’t telling her everything, but she didn’t press. They both had some pretty shady things in their backgrounds, but most of those contacts had long broken off. She apparently still kept in touch with a few of them, because this man certainly was one of them. The name on his business card was handwritten, and scribbled, nearly illegible, with a slightly neater phone number. He wanted people to be able to contact him, not find him. Very appropriate, Pietro thought as he pulled out his phone, dialling the number, with barely a glance in the direction of the driver.

The man who picked up, like everyone else he’d met so far in the city, had a heavy accent. “Who ya’ lookin for?” he drawled. Pietro could almost see him swirling his finger in his glass, maybe a cigar on the edge of his grinning lips.

Pietro sighed, only slightly nervous. He’d had years of practice steadying his voice, so not a hint of it bled through. “A girl. I hear you can help me find her.” The line was silent, so Pietro said, “Lorna Dane gave me your number.”

The phone line cracked, and then the man said, “What girl?” he sounded- well, maybe not interested, but at least focused. As though he’d straightened up in his seat, all business. Much like Pietro. Well- a lot like Pietro’s outward appearance. He was nervous. He hadn’t gotten to grow up with Wanda, but she was his sister still, his family, regardless of what kind of situations she’d gotten herself into over the past few years. And _maybe_ he was hoping that this was more than a trip just to talk, but maybe to bring her _home_. And all that depended on her impression of him, what if he didn’t live up to it?

“Not on the phone, and not where anyone would recognize me,” Pietro said, eyes flicking to the driver. He didn’t appear to be listening, as he pulled up to the hotel, but Pietro had learned to be overly careful.

And so the man listed off an address and a time- a little under two hours- and Pietro exited the car. 

* * *

 Pietro unpacked. He didn’t know how long he was staying- maybe just a day, if this all went well, maybe more if it didn’t- but he found comfort in routine, to calm his nerves. He’d always been restless, and nerves only exacerbated it. At promptly eight o’clock, Pietro made his way downstairs and back into the hotel car waiting to take him to the Hellfire Club. The looks the hotel driver _didn’t_ give him certainly said something about it’s usual clientele.

The drive was relatively short, only twenty minutes or so, and Pietro barely noticed it as he stared out at the neon lights of the boulevard. Pulling up, the front of the Hellfire Club looked less like a “club” and more like a “gentleman’s club,” only with more scantily dressed women standing around outside smoking. Other than the girls who undoubtedly belonged to the club, the street looked relatively clean and hooker-free. There were a few more bustling, and just as exclusive-looking, clubs along the boulevard and several more men like him dressed well were entering the other venues. 

The man at the door sized Pietro up, and looked like he was going to bar entrance when Pietro pulled the man’s card out of his pocket. “I’ve been invited.” The man plucked the card from his fingers and examined it, looking over the card, and then back at Pietro. He grunted, and opened the door. “Thank you,” Pietro said curtly, and then stepped past him into the club. The tinted windows of the first floor building were hiding exactly what Pietro thought they would be: a club consisting mostly of quite a few men in suits and scantily clad women in a lit room with loud music and a few gambling tables. The club, which was obviously quite modern, had a hint of a 1960’s theme, the decor and the occasional garb going along with it.   

Pietro stood at the door for a few moments, wondering which patron he was looking for. Men sat at gambling tables, at booths, and at the bar, only several women who didn’t work there were even seen at all. After two or three minutes of awkwardly standing at the entrance, a woman dressed in white passed him, throwing a, “Lookin’ for company, sugah?” Her hair was almost as pale as his, and she was incredibly attractive- just not the woman he was looking for at the moment, so he hardly spared her a glance. 

But she did have an air of authority to her, in the way she seized him up and knew _money_ immediately, so when she stepped closer he shook his head, holding up the card and saying, “I’m looking for this man.”

She stopped, a dark shadow of irritation crossing her face, but then sighed, turning around. She nodded at one of the bartenders, who pointed at one of the gambling tables. She started walking towards the table without a gesture to follow, but he did anyway. She stopped next to a man with longer hair than Pietro’s, who had a full hand of cards just like the one Pietro had in his pocket, the same almost-glow included. They appeared to be a personal signature. “This one’s here for you, Remy,” she said curtly with a toss of her head, and left. 

“Thanks Emma,” the man looked up, but just barely, eyes suspicious under the brim of his hat. “Ya?”

Tossing the card on the table, ignoring all the other patrons, Pietro said, “Lorna Dane sent me. I spoke with you earlier on the phone.” 

Remy stood suddenly, dropping his cards on the table- though Pietro noticed Lorna’s was gone- “I’m out, boys-” but before Pietro could see their looks of relief, Remy had grabbed him by the arm, and tossed him into a secluded corner booth. He then threw himself down onto the opposite side of the table, and said pointedly, “I know you- you’re the girl’s brother. You two have made somethin’ of yourselves, haven’t ya?”

Pietro straightened up, placing his hands on the table in front of him. “I should think so, but now’s not the time. I’m looking for a woman- she’s a prostitute, her name is Wanda Frank. I couldn’t get much on her except for a couple of photographs from a few weeks ago, the detectives I hired couldn’t find her after that one evening. Lorna said the person to ask in this city was you.” The PIs had been unable to find an address, leading them to believe she didn’t have a steady residence or that she payed cash. The one who’d taken the photographs of her had lost her after she left with a client, and she hadn’t returned to that particular corner. 

“All business, eh? Why all the trouble for this one girl? There’s half a dozen girls in here who’d blow _you_ for a buck,” Remy snorted, but Pietro narrowed his eyes. He didn’t much like this guy, and wondered how Lorna knew him. “What’d she do to you?”

He frowned, “It’s not like that,” he said, hunching forward. Remy raised an eyebrow, and Pietro said, for the first time aloud. “She’s my sister. Lorna’s sister.”

“Ah,” he said, lounging back. “This’d cost you a pretty penny, but I still owe Lorna a few-” he said, and then pulled out a flip phone from his pocket. It looked disposable, and Pietro briefly wondered if that was the one he’d called. Remy called a buddy named ‘Nil,’ laughed a bit at something he said, and finally said, “Listen, I’m lookin for this girl, a hooker called Wanda Frank-” 

Pietro waited, straining to hear what Nil said, but he couldn’t hear a thing from across the table. So he sat back until Remy said, “Thanks. You’re still makin’ up for the Danger situation, got it?” and then hung up. He turned to Pietro, and like magic, pulled a different card from somewhere, and said, “Got a pen? -ah, nevermind, I got one,” and started scribbling down an address. He held it out to Pietro, and said, “She usually hangs around this corner. Be sure to catch her before someone else does,” he said, and winked. Pietro was _sure_ he didn’t like this guy.

Grabbing the card, he said, “Tell no one about this. Not that she’s my sister, or that I’ve been here. Not even to Lorna.”

Remy saluted, leaning back, “Thieves’ honor.” 

* * *

His driver was still outside, parked along the line of cars on the street corner. Spotting Pietro, he turned on the car and pulled up to the entrance. A few of the girls were eyeing him as they blew smoke from their lips, but it was getting late, and he didn’t have any time to waste. Remy was certainly right about getting to Wanda before anyone else. He gave the new address to the driver, which was only a few miles away, but hardly closer to the hotel than they’d been before. As they neared- Pietro could tell by the slowing of the car- he started spotting women patrolling the street. A few of them were wearing large, unbuttoned coats, but the majority of them were just wearing skimpy, tight clothing despite the cooling November air. 

He scanned the blocks until he spotted her. His nerves had died down awhile ago, returning to their normal steely state, even if his tapping fingers didn’t get the memo. He’d learned early that the only way to succeed in business was to go all in, and he was. As the car slowed at the avenue, Pietro got a look at Wanda for the first time, his heart speeding up. 

She was wearing a low-cut red dress, barely covering her ass when she turned. She had long legs, too-high red heeled boots, and far too many bangles on her wrists. 

The first thought of her that ran through his mind was certainly not brotherly. It sent a shiver through his body, forcing him to shake his head, and send the thoughts elsewhere. He didn’t know where that came from. She was beautiful, but she was his _sister_. 

“Thats her,” he said to the driver. The driver didn’t say a word as he pulled to the curb.

Spotting the approaching car, Wanda bit her lip, her whole demeanor changing from the girl lurking by the curb to a woman with a mission. She stepped closer to the street, pushing back her wild hair. The curls were different, and Pietro didn’t know if they were natural or not- he and Lorna always had the straightest of hair. If they were, they must have come from their mother.

He rolled down the window as they stopped, his heart beating faster, and he told himself it was the nerves of meeting her for the first time. His throat was dry, but she looked like she could change that with her bright red lips. For a moment he was speechless. He was mere inches away from his sister, but she was looking at him like he was candy.

_But she doesn’t know that. This is business, you know business,_ Pietro reminded himself. She perched her arms on the window, leaning inside towards him, she said, “Baby, it’s a hundred for an hour.”

“How much for the night?” he countered, clearing his throat. 

Wanda paused, and really looked him over. Apparently he passed her inspection, because she said, “A thousand.”

He nodded, and then- to seem like he didn’t already know it, he asked, "What's your name?"

"What do you want it to be?" she said with a smile, still leaning towards him. She was so close he could see the four freckles spread across her cheeks. 

But he frowned, not hiding the annoyance in his voice as he said, "Your name. Your actual name.” He wasn’t going to be like one of those men, even if he was paying for an evening with her. 

“Wanda.” For the first time he noticed the bare hint of an accent. It wasn’t like everyone else’s in the city, instead it almost sounded Eastern European, but only just, like she’d been in the country far longer than she’d been out of it. 

She looked as though daring him to say something about it, but he didn’t. Instead, he said, “Are you coming?” he gestured. She shook her head, taking a step back from the car. For a brief second, he felt fleeting panic, unconsciously leaning forward to be closer to her. 

“Not until you touch me.”

“Excuse me?” he said, surprised, reeling back slightly. 

With her hands on her hips, she said, “How do I know you aren’t a cop? You have to,” she leaned forward again, almost into the car, “touch me,” she said, barely a whisper, but- seductive all the same, and Pietro found himself out of the car almost like magic. He glanced around nervously, but the only other people on the street were working girls, but none of them were paying Wanda and Pietro any attention. 

Standing in the shallow street lighting, he hesitantly reached for her waist. It was feverishly warm under his hands, and after a beat, he tried to pull away, but her ice-cold hands caught his wrist. She shook her head, “No, not like that,” and pulled his hand up her body and placed it on her breast. 

He could hear his heart beating in his chest, as she looked at him, her hand still over his. Apparently satisfied, she dropped her hand, smiling, and said, “Alright, that’s enough- for here,” sliding past him into the car with a wink. He didn’t know why, but his wrist felt bare without her touch. 

Following after her, Pietro sat stiffly in the seat next to her as he ordered the driver to take them back to the hotel. Wanda had pulled on a large, white fur coat, truly fitting of a hooker’s wardrobe. He hadn’t noticed it until he looked over, she wasn’t wearing it before. 

Pietro, staring at her, finally said, incredulously, “Really?”

She turned to him and purred, reaching to grope his thigh, “What, you don’t like it? I suppose I’ll just have to take it off-” The coat slipped off her shoulders as she shimmied out of it. 

“Not here,” Pietro said quietly, stopping her hand just before it reached his upper thigh, with a glance to the driver. They’d prioritized discrete service, and he’d been nothing but quiet so far, but… She shifted back, shrugging the coat back on with a shrug, and crossed her legs. 

“So what _are_ you lookin’ for, baby?” she said.

Pietro sighed. This was going to be more work than he’d thought. “I just want to talk.” Wanda snorted, and Pietro frowned, “What?”

“Nothin,” Wanda said, uncrossing her legs, and looking over at him suggestively, “it’s just… men like you don’t usually hire me just to _talk_. That usually comes extra.” 

Right. Prostitute. Pietro was quiet for the rest of the ride, and didn’t protest when Wanda put her hand back on his leg, provided she didn’t move it any higher. When the driver pulled into the hotel loop, Pietro took off his coat, and handed it to her, “Wear this- it’ll make you look a little less conspicuous. I suppose there’s nothing to be done about the boots at this point…” he said with a sigh. 

Wanda pulled off her own coat, laying it onto the seat next to them as she pulled Pietro’s suit jacket around her shoulders. Before he could say anything else, Wanda said, “Don’t worry, I know the drill- don’t talk to anyone, and if they talk to me I’m your-”

“Sister,” Pietro said.

“Sister,” Wanda said, but the irony was lost on her. _For now_ , he reminded himself. She then leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek with a loud _smack_ , scooting out the door the driver had just opened, holding out her hand for him. Pietro stared out after her, rubbing at his cheek.

He stepped out after the car, and tipped the driver as Wanda stared up at the hotel in slight awe. Her lips were parted in a slight gasp. She wasn’t expecting such an extravagant hotel, he realized. She pulled the jacket tighter around her shoulders, and turned back to him. He put his arm around her, and steered her in the direction of the elevators.

They entered the hotel with the swoosh of the automatic doors, and there was hardly a glance in their direction as they crossed the lobby and entered the elevator up to the top floor. Stepping out, Wanda cooed, “The _penthouse_? What _are_ you doing in this city?”

_You. I’m looking for you,_ he thought, but said, “Later,” reaching for his key. 

* * *

He hired her to talk. Just to talk, he tells himself. And her. But even on the ride over, he felt an undeniable attraction to her. She _was_ beautiful, and he _had_ hired her, handing her money just moments before, so she was his for the night, but- 

"I just wanted to- talk," he said, standing in front of her. Talking was the right thing to do, all moral qualms about prostitution aside, she was still his sister. All images of her flashing through his mind, aside. Ignoring the heat slowly building in his core every time he thought of what she did. 

But for the first time, in the dim light of the overhead chandelier, he was really seeing his- his sister for the first time, just the two of them. They had the same eyes, the same shaped face, the same lips. His eyes were tracing her lips- blood red with lipstick- as he stood staring down at her. He was nearly half a foot taller than her, her heels tossed by the door with her coat. 

She didn’t seem to get the message, or didn’t care, because she advanced, pulling off his suit jacket as she said, "No one in my line of work ever just wants to _talk_.” Images of men touching his sister filling his head, bodies in the dark, and he started to frown when-

She kissed him. 

Pietro was so surprised his eyes shut and for a moment. But he pushed her back. She wasn’t deterred, coming again, tongues and teeth and- sweetness, as she pressed. She’d kissed him softly, as though she knew he’d be hesitant, dragging it out as she reached up to pull him down closer with her hand on the back of his neck. But Pietro didn’t forget, couldn’t forget who she was. 

Instead, he pulled back, placing his hands on her shoulders to keep her at an arm’s distance, and said, “Wanda, I’m serious! I have something very important to-”

“I don’t think you are,” she said, knocking his hands from her shoulders. She stepped back into his space, not looking away from his eyes. He held his breath, but didn’t move away, and the air changed, as though she’d already won. Oh God, he was weak, Pietro would do anything she asked. She reached down for his hand, and brought it up to her breast, in a mirror of just a little while ago, but not at all the same. His hand was almost shaking, he was- nervous- but she pressed her hand on top of his. Stepping on her toes to reach him, with his hand cupping her breast, she kissed him again, just as gently, soft lips against his. His dick had started to take notice, and twitched in his pants. 

This time, she was the one to pull back, still staring into his eyes as he breathed heavily against her cheek. She was smiling. He had no idea what he was doing, no idea. This was so far out of the plans for the evening, Pietro didn’t even know where to begin.

But Wanda did, asking, “Still interested in talking?” with a hint of a tease. But, against every fiber of his rational being screaming internally, he shook his head. She smiled, glancing down at his pants. 

And then, everything went quickly from then on. Without waiting for Pietro to catch up, Wanda reached for his pants, tugging the button and zipper open, reaching into his underwear to stroke his cock. He let out an involuntary gasp, and Wanda looked pleased, pulling at it as she kissed him again, and again. The blood was rushing to his dick, if it was a little interested before. 

But then Wanda pulled back, removing her hand from his pants only long enough to pull off her dress. He realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. He hadn’t noticed, even though he’d felt her up only a little while ago. Then, she pulled down her underwear, his eyes drawn to a dark patch of hair. But there she was, to guide him again, bringing his hand down with her’s to her clit, ghosting over it with his fingers, and letting go to undress him. He continued to circle her clit softly, feeling the wetness soak his hand as he started to rub harder, making her moan. He slipped a finger, then two, inside her, and felt her shudder around him. 

“Yes, Pietro, like that!” she breathed, as he began to finger her in earnest, spreading her legs with one knee, her thoughts of undressing him forgotten. He used his other hand to pull her closer and begin massaging her breast. She inhaled sharply as he bent his fingers inside her. She opened her eyes, and said, “Wait, what about you?”

Pietro, who was breathing heavily by her ear, said, almost out of breath, “Oh, yes,” pulling out of her, and started unbuttoning his own shirt. Wanda bit her lip, her legs still spread as she stood, and reached for his pants, hooking her fingers in the waistband and pulling both his pants and underwear to the floor for him to step out of. Wanda reluctantly stepped back, looking at him almost hungrily, as he toed off his shoes and stepped out of his pants, his shirt abandoned on the floor. He lifted his undershirt over his head, and dropped it on their pile of clothes.

For a moment, the two of them, standing completely naked in front of each other, just stared. Pietro wasn’t sure who moved first, but they were in each other’s arms, in a rushed embrace, lips locked together, teeth clashing. Pietro pulled back slightly, and breathed, “Do you have a-?” she nodded and released herself from his embrace, dropping to the ground to pick a condom from the pocket of her dress. She tore the packet open, and with a wicked gleam in her eye, rolled it on his dick with her mouth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Pietro said, gripping the back of a chair for support. Before pulling off, Wanda met his eye, lips fully wrapped around his dick, and sucked. Pietro let in another gasp of air, Wanda dragging her tongue across the shaft until she reached the tip, swirling around it, and the pulling off with a pop. A trail of saliva from his cock to her lips was broken when she stood, kissing him open-mouthed once more before pushing him back onto the chair.

Wanda placed her hands on his shoulders, watching his cock carefully as she positioned herself over him, lowering herself down onto him, and enveloping him in her hot, tight wetness. She threw her head back as she sank down, his eyes not leaving her form though her’s were closed.

Then she started to move after a moment, rocking back and forth on him, almost lifting herself up completely and then dropping back down. “Oh god, Pietro,” she said with a moan, matching his heated breaths as he thrust upwards. He pulled her even closer, thrusting deeper, as her cunt clenched around him, making squelching noises as they parted and came together again. He reached forward to rub her clit at the base where they met, causing Wanda to falter and gasp, only making him rub faster. His skin stuck to hers, her hair damp against her neck as she leaned towards him, her arms now wrapped around his neck to hold on. 

“Wanda, Wanda, Wanda,” he said, almost chanting, as he moved faster and faster, almost making her bounce on his cock. He could feel himself building up to his orgasm, a tight heat lower in his body. With her legs around him, a wave of pleasure hit Wanda, her cunt clenching and releasing as her orgasm played out, moaning his name, “ _Pietro_.”

To ride out the waves of her orgasm, Pietro fucked her harder, head bent into the crook of her shoulder, her nails biting into his back. His release inside her came with weakening legs and an empty mind, stuttering to a stop as he came, Wanda’s name on his lips but not being able to spit it out. For a few moments afterwards, he thrust lightly into her as she held onto him, but that slowly came to a stop, still-heavy breaths cooling her sticky skin. 

But with release came clarity, too. He’d allowed himself to forget, even just for that little while, and he- he didn’t know how that could have happened, it all coming back full force. He froze, but Wanda must have attributed it to something else, because she kissed him again before pulling herself off of him, and peeling off the condom, which she promptly threw away. She disappeared for a moment, coming back with a wet washcloth to wipe them both down, and then she tugged him up and into the bed with her. She claimed one side- which was fine, he usually slept on the other anyway- curling up under his arm, and falling asleep quickly. 

* * *

Unlike Wanda, who was sleeping peacefully and unaware beside him, Pietro was wide awake and restless. He’d tried to fall asleep, he’d tried, tossing and turning, to forget, to pretend he was blissfully unaware like Wanda. But there was only so much you could convince yourself of, so he remained awake, staring at the smooth ceiling. 

After the initial freak out of ‘oh god I fucked my sister’- that nearly came with a trip to the toilet to throw up, along with seeing the ring of lipstick around his cock- Pietro tried reasoning with himself. As if that made it any better. 

“Oh god,” Pietro mumbled to himself. “CEOs fuck hookers all the time-" he said. But the hookers are not their _sister_ -

“Probably not, anyway, right?" he shook his head, who was he even talking to? He groaned, “They probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it this much.” 

He sat up and rested his head in his hands. The sheets pooled around his bare waist, and were barely covering Wanda’s tits. “Oh god I’m going to hell. I fucked my sister and I enjoyed it,” Pietro said with realization. He’d _enjoyed_ it. And- and he’d do it again, which made it so much worse. 

Wanda stirred beside him. He froze, but she merely mumbled, “Come back to sleep baby.” And with the horror of the realization, he did. 

* * *

The next morning he awoke before dawn. It wasn’t all that surprising, since it was even later in New York than he’d usually be getting up. _He wasn’t in New York_. Oh god, he thought, looking beside him in the bed. She was curled up next to him, her hair messy and on the pillows, and her lipstick had all rubbed off- all over him- but she looked just as beautiful as she had the night before. At least she was still there. He’d only paid her half upon arriving, partially because he wasn’t sure he trusted her, half so she would still be there in the morning. It wasn’t about the money, he’d give anything to her, everything he had was her’s- she was family. Oh god he needed a drink. Or to run. _Yes, running_ , he thought. 

Running had been a hobby of his since middle school, and despite what Lorna would say, running five miles on the treadmill is _not_ an attempt to run away from his problems. An hour (and eight miles- it was a slow morning-) later, he was sweating like crazy. His Serval Industries hoodie was sticking closely to his skin, and he’d run his hand through his hair so many times it was flattened back. 

When he finally reached his floor- the gym was on the second, his was nearly at the top- his skin was sticky and cold. For a moment, he paused at the door. He had no idea how Wanda would be in the morning, how he could convince her to stay and listen. He took a deep breath, and opened the door. He’d wing it. (Even though Lorna told him that was _not_ one of his skills.)

But inside the room, Wanda was already awake. She looked, well, even more gorgeous in the morning light, even with crazy bed hair, and smudged makeup. She looked up from doodling on the bedside notepad. “I was wondering when you’d be getting back.”

“I just dropped down to the gym for a morning run,” he explained.

She nodded lightly, sitting up, pulling the sheet with her. She wrapped it around herself as she stood, the sheet trailing behind her as she approached. She reached for him, but he said, “Wait, I’m covered in sweat, I’m disgusting. Let me shower.”

She shook her head, and said, “I don’t care, I’ve seen worse.” She tugged at the sleeve of his hoodie, “Do you work for them?” 

He shook his head, “They work for me. This is my company.”

Before he could explain further, she kissed him lightly. Thoughts of- of everything else vanished instantly, and he found himself saying, almost desperately, as she pulled away, “How much for three days and nights? Just three,” he hoped he didn’t actually sound as desperate as he felt. “Just till Wednesday, when I’m leaving.” He had the meeting on Friday, so he couldn’t stay longer. He just felt inexplicably drawn to her, almost like they were...

For a moment, Wanda seemed almost shocked, and then she regarded him suspiciously. She pulled back, frowning, “That’s another two days.”

“I know.”

“It’s going to cost.”

“I don’t care.” 

“You don’t even know how much I was going to say!”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, and met her eyes. She stared into his, trying to figure out if he were serious. Apparently she was satisfied with what she saw, because she surged forward and kissed him, sealing the deal. 

“Fine, two more days. And it’s five thousand, total.”

“Fine,” he said, and kissed her. Two more days of avoiding responsibility. Of avoiding telling her why he was really there. God. How the hell is he supposed to do it now?

“Really? Just like that? That’s a lot of money.”

Pulling her closer, he said, “It really isn’t. Are you trying to talk me out of it?”

“Not at all,” she said, shaking her head. “What do you wanna do now?”

Pietro paused, “I didn’t really think this far ahead,” he admitted. In the light of day, he was slightly… less comfortable with his actions, even as he stood holding her.

She searched his face, and then said, “You know… we don’t have to have sex all the time. If you wanna do something else, we can.”

“Like what?” he said.

She shrugged, “Oh I don’t know. We can still have that talk if you want it.”

He shook his head, “That’s okay.” 

Wanda glanced around the room, and then her eyes lit up. “We can watch a movie!” He looked around her, and saw the TV. He’d hardly noticed it before. He nodded, and she pulled away, and dropped the sheet as she reached for the bathroom robe, giving Pietro a nice view of her ass. 

She grabbed the remote and dropped down on the couch and he said, “I’m gonna get in the shower really quickly, pick out something.”

For a second she looked conflicted, and said, “Don’t you want to pick it?”

“I hardly watch movies or TV,” Pietro admitted, “I don’t know the last time I saw one, or anything that wasn’t the news. I’m not much of a pop culture enthusiast. Whatever you want is fine,” he shrugged. 

“Alright,” she said, and turned back to the TV as he stepped into the bathroom. A few minutes later, he stepped out, drying his hair with a towel. She was still flipping through through the channels when she heard him. “I didn’t want to pick anything without you.”

He sat down beside her, and she scooted up closer, clicking through the pay-per-view movies. “Oh!” she suddenly exclaimed, as she stopped on the movie _Oldboy_. “I haven’t seen this one yet! I saw the original when it came out with my father.” Pietro almost asked about it, but he didn’t, and she didn’t bring him up again. She turned to him, and said, “If that’s okay?” he nodded and she settled in, clicking play.

He half watched the movie, spending more time watching her reactions to it than the actors on the screen. But when it came to the revelation of what the relationship between the main character and the girl truly was, the irony wasn’t lost on him. “Wanda, I don’t think I like this movie.”

She clicked pause, and turned to him, worried, “I’m sorry I didn’t think that you’d mind- we can stop watching if you want-” 

He shook his head, “It’s alright. I just- I do not think I’ll finish the movie. I have paperwork to catch up on anyway. Why don’t you finish it?”

She nodded, and clicked play after he stood up, heading over to the desk on the other side of the suite. He’d brought a few of the Techno Inc. merger files with him, stuffing Wanda’s file in between them. He needed to review them before Friday, and even though it was three days days away, he didn’t think he was going to get much reading in in the next two days. 

Occasionally he looked up to catch glimpses of the movie, but from what he saw, it didn’t end well, and he hoped that didn’t foretell the ending of- this. 

When the movie ended, Wanda wandered over in Pietro’s direction, running her hand over his shoulders as she said, “I’m starving. Can we get something to eat?”

Pietro had completely forgotten about food. He realized it must be well past morning, but neither of them had eaten all day. He pushed away from the desk, and pointed to the phone at the bedside table. “There should be a menu there. Call room service and order whatever you want.”

* * *

While waiting for the room service, they fell into bed. When it finally arrived, Pietro simply pulled a sheet around himself, and answered the door. The bellboy didn’t even bat an eye at him standing at the door practically naked, so Pietro tipped him extra. He pulled the cart the rest of the way into the room, and over to the bed, where Wanda was sitting up with the rest of the sheets pooled in her lap. She was unabashedly aware of her body, and was sitting topless. 

The cart was piled with a bizarre combination of breakfast and lunch foods. Forgoing breakfast all together, Pietro had ordered a steak. Wanda, on the other hand, had ordered waffles, a salad of some sort, and, “Wine?” Pietro asked with a raised eyebrow. 

She shrugged, leaning forward to grab a glass and the plate of waffles, “You said order whatever I wanted, and I wanted wine.” She’d seemed a little hesitant earlier, unsure of what to do when they weren’t having sex, but with each passing hour of him not caring when she took charge, she was getting bolder. 

“Fair enough,” he said with a nod in her direction, lifting himself a glass before sitting down next to her. By the second glass, though, he said, “Two glasses with lunch?”

Knocking back the rest of the second glass, she said, “Hell yes, I haven’t had anything this good in _ages_.”

She reached for a third glass, and he thought, _why the hell not?_ pouring himself a second to go along with hers. And so they got a little drunk together, on expensive wine over shared waffles and steak, which is why Pietro thought what happened next was a good idea. 

* * *

Wanda laughed, her head propped up on her arm, not caring to cover herself, as she said, “I can’t believe that no one would want you bad enough that you would hire someone like _me_ ,” she says, “you’re gorgeous, _and_ have tons of money from what I can tell. And no bizarre kinks, and believe me, I’ve seen them all. What was it that made you come down my alley?”

“I was looking for someone special,” Pietro mumbled sleepily. Alcohol always made him drift off, the only thing keeping him awake was the beautiful woman in bed with him.

Wanda laughed again, before climbing over and straddling him, waking him up. “I hope you found her,” she said, as he reached up and put his hands on her hips.

“I did.”

She bent down and kissed him. 

They were still kissing when the phone rang, and Pietro tried to maintain the kiss as he groped for the phone, but Pietro had to break the kiss when he couldn’t reach his phone. He didn’t even have to look who was calling, he’d turned it on silent for everyone but her. Wanda sat back, and lowered herself to lie on top of him, propping herself up with her arms, watching him answer the call.

He barely had a chance to say hello when Lorna said, “Pietro! Did you find her? You should be back by now- I called and the plane hasn’t even left!” she was talking quickly, even more so than he normally did. 

"This is gonna... ah-" he said, as Wanda started to trail kisses down his stomach, "Gonna take- um- just a little bit more time here in Louisiana, Lorna."

The line was silent for a moment, but then she sighed, and said, "If you’re gonna stay another day I have a possible client for you to meet, but…  Hurry up and find her, alright? The meetings at five, I’ll email you the details.”

"Right," he said, and then hung up, as Wanda looked up, crossing her arms oh his chest, smiling up at him. 

"That your wife?"

"No, my sister."

Wanda shrugged, "You wouldn't _believe_ how many guys have been on the phone with their wives while I was-" Pietro cut her off by pulling her up and kissing her fiercely, flipping them over so he was on top of her as she laughed in delight. 

“What time is it?” he said, looking over at his watch. “Three? We have time.”

* * *

With Wanda doodling on the bedside notepad, laying on top of him, Pietro checked his email. The meeting was with Garwood Industries’ CEO, Simon Garth, a coffee magnate. Although they were looking to partner with the industries in their upcoming fair trade coffee shop line, they’d need to discuss several of Garth’s business practices with the man, since they didn’t always see eye to eye on how employees were treated. At four thirty, Pietro groaned and said, “I’ve got to get to this meeting, Wanda,” as she sighed, pulling herself up. 

“What am I supposed to do for the rest of the evening without you?” 

He smiled, “Watch another terrible movie?”

“Hey, I liked that movie,” she said, tapping his arm lightly. She leaned forward to kiss him as he swung his legs off the bed. He deepened the kiss, but had to pull back.

“Okay okay, I’ve really got to go,” he said, glancing down at his watch. He grabbed his pants, and fished out his wallet, pulling a hundred dollar bill from his pocket and leaving it on the side table, “We may end up going to dinner, if things are going well, so don’t wait for me to eat. Again, order whatever you want off the menu,” he said as he pulled on his pants, and reached in the dresser for a clean shirt. 

Wanda was watching him dress with her knees pulled up to her chest, and said, “I might take a bath,” with a smile, “Very _Pretty Woman_.” Pietro _did_ understand that reference, he was at least a little bit cultured. 

“Whatever you want,” he said, leaning over the side of the bed to kiss her, before running off out the door. “I’ll see you in a bit, Wanda.”

His driver- a different one from the previous night, they must have day and night shifts- took him to the client’s office downtown. He was lead up to the conference room by the CEO’s daughter, Donna, who chatted with him idly on the elevator ride up, before introducing him to the board. 

The CEO was just as brash in person, and the other board members all knew it, but he signed their checks, so even as he arrogantly lectured- even if he had good points- they listened intently. Pietro had a notepad in front of him with a few points Lorna told him to bring up, but Pietro was too distracted to bother mentioning them. Lorna would have to forgive him. 

Pietro spent the entire meeting thinking about Wanda. At first, he thought he might use the break from her to clear his head, since she was clearly clouding her judgement, but even from miles away she occupied his thoughts. He knew so little about his sister, even the PIs hadn’t been very much help. 

Lorna, on the other hand, was much more like an actual sister to him than Wanda was- or would ever be, he was starting to realize- even though she only shared half of his genes. They’d known each other since Pietro was seventeen and Lorna was in middle school- it was an incredible coincidence they’d even met at all. Their father had never been in their life, and prior to Pietro’s arrest for tagging a condemned building, he hadn’t even known he _had_ a sister. The arresting officer had scoffed when they’d gotten the DNA results back from the cigarette he’d left at the scene, saying, “I guess criminal activity is in your family, isn’t it? Your father _and_ your sister are in the system- oh it looks like your father is still in the system.” 

Which is how he learned he had a thirteen year old sister with a need for a bone marrow transplant, and a father residing in jail for a botched assassination attempt. After being released, he did the only thing he could do: find Lorna and help her. Of course, he was a match, which was truly remarkable since they were half siblings, but after that he stopped with the illegal activities: it was so much more rewarding to help people. And now that he had a thirteen year old tagging along, he tended to stay out of all the wrong places. That didn’t last forever, of course- Lorna grew up and turned into a reckless teenager just like he was, dying her hair green and running away twice a month, but even she got over that by the time Pietro had the idea for Serval Industries. 

He actually _grew up_ with Lorna, but Wanda… Wanda was a complete mystery. He wondered what her life was like, how she got into this business, and where the father was who raised her, and watched movies with her as a child. He couldn’t find much about her past from the men he hired, other than their shared birth location, which was Transia, like he’d discovered ages ago. From her hint of an accent, she’d likely stayed there until she was of age, but there was no way to ask about any of this without sounding like he knew too much. He wasn’t even sure he had the right to ask at this point. 

“Well, Mr. Maximoff, are you listening to me? Or is this too little a matter to not catch your attention?” Pietro heard, jolting him out of his own head. The entire room staring expectantly at him, headed by Simon Garth, who’d just spoken. 

Pietro looked up from his ‘notes,’ and said calmly, “Of course I’m paying attention, Mr. Garth, I just happen to be very good at multitasking, to the point where I can jot down thoughts and listen at the same time,” the only thing on his notepad was a doodle of the Serval cat. Garth was almost fuming.

* * *

The meeting lasted longer than expected, especially with Garth’s luming hostility, but Pietro sucked it up, and paid attention for the rest of the meeting, conversing afterwards with the other board members about Lorna’s concerns. As expected, they didn’t go out for dinner afterwards, only exchanging handshakes and promises to talk further. In the elevator, Donna smiled at him, “I’m sorry about my father, he can be a bit… much. I’ll keep in touch with Ms. Maximoff, she and I are determined to see this partnership go through.” The elevator dinged, and Donna glanced up, and offered her hand. “Thank you for coming today, Mr. Maximoff, it was a pleasure.”

He took her hand, and nodded, “It was. Thank you, Donna,” and stepped from the elevator into the lobby. It wasn’t too late, but it was nearing dinner time, and Wanda likely had already eaten, so Pietro asked the driver to stop somewhere he could pick up some food, and ate it in the car on the way back to the hotel. 

By the time Pietro made it back into the elevator, he was restless. He might be a businessman, but sitting still for three hours wasn’t his idea of a good time, and he was itching to do something. Or rather, someone.

When he unlocked and pushed open the door, Wanda turned, startled. She was sitting in bed- which looked almost like it had been jumped on- in the hotel bathrobe, holding the phone up to her ear. He heard her say, “Oh he’s back, sorry Lani, I have to go!” and then hung up the phone. 

She turned around, looking almost sheepish, “I ran out of things to do so I called my roommate.”

“It’s alright- I shouldn’t have left you alone for so long.”

“Well that’s fine,” she said, pulling herself off the bed, and walking towards him. She smiled up at him, “since you’re back now,” slipping her hands into his jacket. She kissed him, and he leaned into it, leading her backwards into the room until they bumped into the desk. It was still covered in his things from earlier, but he swiped them off, lifting Wanda up onto the desk. She grinned at him as she leaned back, splayed out on the desk.

He quickly stripped off his coat, and loosened his tie, pulling it over his head, but he didn’t otherwise undress. Instead, he leaned over her, pressing his body against hers as he pressed his lips to hers. Her mouth opened for him, deepening the kiss, their teeth clashing. She smiled into the kiss, and he stopped, pulling off just enough to where they were breathing each other’s air. Her eyes met his, and still breathing each other’s air, his hands moved down to pull her robe apart. 

Pietro grinned, and followed his hands much lower, to spread her legs apart, lifting them over his shoulders. He kissed her inner thigh once, then again, causing her to gasp in anticipation. He licked a slow stripe across her folds, and then flicked it against her clit, before starting to explore the area with his mouth. This wasn’t what he was best at, but the way she was already quivering under his touch meant he hadn’t lost everything he knew about this part. He was half hard in his pants, but he didn’t make a move to free himself, focusing solely on her. After a moment, he pushed in two fingers while sucking lightly on her clit. Her back arched, and she grabbed his hair, and he grinned wickedly against her cunt. Pietro continued, his scruff scratching against her inner thighs, finally pulling back again to crook his fingers upwards to hit her g-spot. Wanda moaned, and he leaned forward to stimulate her clit for a final time. She came suddenly with his name on her tongue, and he continued to finger her through it. 

She sighed, collapsing her arched back on the wooden desk. He pulled out, and lifted her legs off his shoulders, moving them to his waist as he stood up. Wanda bit her lip and reached up for him. Pietro leaned to kiss her again, cupping her face with his hands. She could taste herself in his mouth. Pietro released her face, but not breaking the kiss, to unbutton his pants. Wanda craned her neck to keep contact with him. He reached in his back pocket after his pants were unzipped and his underwear pulled down over his now fully-hard erection, fumbling for the condom he kept in his wallet. He finally managed it, pulling away from Wanda- who groaned and dropped her head back on the desk- to rip the condom open with his mouth, and putting it on his cock. Pietro grasped her thighs, lining his cock up with her, thrusting in without any further preparation. He fucked her slowly, thoroughly, until she came again, and was on the brink of a third. When he pulled out, she finished herself off, watching him. 

They stepped into the shower quickly, before falling into bed. After the events on the desk, the two of them fell asleep easily. 

* * *

Pietro woke up to movement an indeterminable amount of time later. He reached for the lamp on the bedside, yawning, and Wanda rolled over. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

He yawned again, “It’s fine. What time is it?”

“A little after midnight,” she said, scooting closer to him. He opened up his arms for her and she moved into them, resting her head on his shoulder. He sighed, wrapping his arms around her. She appeared vulnerable, more so than she had in the two days he’d known her. He didn’t know what that meant, possibly that she was starting to trust him.

Wanda had started tracing shapes on his skin, and admitted, “I can’t sleep. My sleep schedule is still a mess,” and then, “I’m not looking forward to fixing it.” He was silent. She knew, that as much as he liked her, he wasn’t going to offer to keep her. This wasn’t how it worked, and it wasn’t why she said it. “What are you thinking?” she eventually asked. He was still silent, and she looked up, making sure he hadn’t fallen asleep. 

He hadn’t, but there was a thoughtful look on his face. He was staring at the ceiling, and then blurted, “I could really go for a cheeseburger right now.”

She almost laughed, “Really? That’s what you’re thinking? Not, ‘Lets go for round three, Wanda’?”

And he shrugs, shifting her head slightly, “I haven’t had one in ages. Maybe not since college. I’ve just, been thinking about things I haven’t let myself have that now I am.” _Like you_ , he doesn’t say. 

But then Wanda rolled over, and sat up. She picked up her underwear and started pulling it on when Pietro said, “Where are you going?” 

“What do you mean ‘where am I going’? Lets go get a hamburger!” 

“At this time of night?” Pietro said, propping his head on his hand to watch her. 

“Well they’re open!” she said, looking around for something on the floor. She spotted it, and plucked the shirt Pietro was wearing earlier from the floor, and pulled it on. She started buttoning from the button just above her breasts. “Where are your pants? I’m going to wear them, you can wear something else.”

“Pushy,” Pietro mumbled, but pulled himself up, and handed her the pants that had been pushed under the bed.

He stepped over to his suitcase and handed her a belt too, and dressed as she rolled the sleeves on his shirt. It was much too big on her, and the pants were pulled all the way up to her waist, but it still managed to look good on her. Well, everything she wore looked good on her. Especially when she was wearing _nothing_. 

Downstairs, the night driver stared at the two of them, dressed in Pietro’s business formal, and said, “You want me to take you _where_?” 

“McDonald’s!” Wanda said. The driver looked incredulously at Pietro, who nodded. 

The man said, “Well alright,” and then, “Get in.” When they pulled up at the local McDonalds five minutes later, the driver said, “So do you want me to drive through, or…?”

Pietro looked at Wanda, who was still on his arm, and said, “No, actually, I think we’ll go inside.”

Wanda practically bounced out, pulling Pietro out behind her. There were a few other people inside, despite it being nearly one in the morning, and only one person in line before them. They ordered and went to sit at one of the bar tables, Wanda stealing one of his fries before they even sat down.

“Hey!” Pietro said, snatching his tray away, Wanda munching on the stolen fry with a mischievous look in her eye. “You have your own right there!”

“Hmm, but yours taste better,” she said with an innocent smile.

Pietro took a sip of his coffee, wincing when he found it black regular. Apparently the order of, “ _Whatever coffee, I don’t care,_ ” meant ‘ _plain black drip._ ’

Wanda, blowing on her own latte, said, “For someone who pretends they aren’t, you’re a very picky person.” She handed him her coffee, “I’ll get you some sugar and stuff.” 

He blew on the latte, and when he tasted it, it was so much better- she scooted off the stool and stepped over to the condiment bar, grabbing a few of the little packets of sugar and creamer. She stilled, staring out the window into the parking lot. When she returned moments later, she nodded towards the window, and said with a little nod, “Is he going to just sit out there?” 

He followed her eyes, and said, “Oh, the driver. Yes, he will.” 

Wanda looked thoughtful for a moment, and then, “Can I have ten dollars?”

Without even thinking about it, Pietro pulled out his wallet, and handed her his card. She hopped up and went back to the counter, where a bored employee stood. She ordered something, and handed the woman the card. A moment later, her order was handed to her. But instead of heading back to Pietro at the table, where he was working on his own Big Mac, she exited the restaurant with the bag, and went up to the front window of the car, and tapped on the window. 

It rolled down and the driver stuck his head out. Once again, he couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she handed the driver the bag, and then came back inside, placing the card on the table. Sitting down, she shrugged, and said without his prompting, “I don’t know, it just seems unfair he has to sit out there while we’re eating in here. I’ve been there,” and took a bite out of her hamburger. Pietro was just staring at her. “What?” she said. _Fuck_ , he was so gone. 

“I haven’t eaten one of these in ages!” Wanda relished.

“Really?”

“You think it is easy to look this good?” Wanda teased.

“Well, I would have thought, with all the exercise you’re getting…” Pietro teased, elbowing her lightly.

For a second, she almost looked offended, but elbowed him back, and said, “Hey!” with a giggle.

It was a very intimate night, and he felt compelled, like he didn’t in the day, to share things, and she must have felt it too, because she responded in kind. Before long, the topic was on something else entirely. 

Wanda laughed, "There’s no way you used to protest on wall street. I can believe the arrest record,” she teased, “But not for that kind of thing.”

"It's true!" Pietro laughed, "You know that big protest about ten years ago, on Capitol Hill? Where the whole area was shut down and people were getting arrested day and night? Lead by that Norwegian guy, called himself Thor? I was totally there! I missed a week of class for it."

Wanda hit his arm in surprise, "Get out- I was there!" 

"Really?" Pietro said

"Really!" She laughed, "I loved that kind of thing, used to do it all the time. I couldn’t speak a word of English at the time, though. All I knew was that people from my country were going to be there.” 

“That’s crazy,” Pietro said, Wanda nodding along. Pietro heard of twins doing the exact same thing despite never meeting, but even knowing Wanda was his, he never thought about it really.

“It all started when the shell fell on my apartment building,” Wanda admitted, softly, “I was fifteen, and my parents were killed.” 

“Wanda, I’m-” 

She waved her hand, “It’s alright, I wasn’t home, but after that… I was very much against this country and all it stood for. But I came here because things were hard over there, and they didn’t get much better here.” 

Pietro was watching her. He wasn’t sure quite what to say, now that he had all his answers. She looked almost sad, but… not quite. It was a long time ago, but maybe not quite so long ago for her, but she smiled at him anyway. 

“You know,” Wanda said softly, “I knew there was something about you, Pietro. There’s just this- connection I feel, and I can’t pinpoint it, but I know it’s there.” 

Pietro didn’t know what to say. But he didn’t have to. Wanda, as much as she tried to hide it, was dropping off to sleep. Her eyelids were drooping, and her hand, which was propping her head up, nearly slipped out from under her. “Ready to go?” Pietro said, equally soft, and Wanda nodded. 

They stumbled back out to the car, and on the ride back, Wanda fell asleep on his shoulder. When they arrived back to the hotel, he carried her back up to the room. 

* * *

When he woke up, it wasn’t too early. He was finally getting used to New Orleans time, and when he looked at the clock, it was nearly nine in the morning. Wanda, too, was getting quite used to this new sleep schedule, and was curled up beside him. He propped his head up on his hand, watching her, instead of getting up and going to the gym like he felt like he needed. Pietro watched her sleep for almost half an hour before she started to stir. It was Wednesday. The end of their arrangement. And he still had no idea how to tell her. He didn’t have a plan. 

She awoke slowly, blinking as she recalled where she was, and then smiled through her hair. "Were you watching me sleep?" 

And like all of the other conversations they'd had- except the most important, a large part of his brain argued- he answered truthfully. "Yes." 

* * *

Pietro had discovered one other point of difference between himself and Wanda: while he did everything at top speed, she took her time with everything she did. With eating lunch, taking huge time to talk between bites, waving her fork around to enunciate her point; with sex, the way she moved almost agonizingly slow when all he wanted her to do was _move_ ; the way she spent over half an hour under the hot spray of a shower. 

Since she took much longer in the shower than he did, Pietro waited to get in with her until the last minute. By the time he’d pulled off his clothes, she was already washing the soap out of her hair, and turning the water down. She smiled apologetically as he entered, “Do you want me to stay?”

He shook his head under the cooler water, “It’s okay, I’ll be out in a minute anyway.”

She nodded, giving him a quick kiss, and then stepping out and wrapping herself in a towel. She picked up another, and started patting her hair dry as she walked from the bathroom. Dropping the towel she used to dry her hair, she adjusted the slipping towel wrapped around her body, and dashed back into the bathroom for her toothbrush. Sticking it in her mouth, she wandered around the room as she brushed, unable to stand still, restless but taking her time. 

She spotted one boot halfway under the bed, and the shirt she’d worn the previous night draped over the armrest of a chair. Stopping by the desk, Wanda noticed all the clutter they’d knocked off the desk, and bent down to collect it. Pietro was still in the bathroom, although by the sound of it he’d already turned the water off, so she took her time, dropping pens into the container, glancing over all the files his sister had sent- all labeled Serval, a couple more ‘Techno Inc Merger,’ another ‘Bishop Publishing’- that didn’t interest her much. She didn’t look at them too closely, anyway, she knew better than that. She placed them in a neat stack in the middle of the desk next to the pens. 

Upturned on the floor next to the desk was another set of papers she hadn’t noticed before. Assuming they were important just like the rest, Wanda bent down to collect the manila envelope and the papers that were falling out, the toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. She pulled up the envelope, but the papers and photographs spilled out, “Oh no!” she said, scooping them up, and grabbing the toothbrush from her mouth. She dropped them on the desk, pushing a strand of wet hair behind her ear, but before she could place them back inside with the other papers, something caught her eye.

The subject of the photographs was her. 

* * *

Pietro exited the bathroom looking for Wanda. He’d changed into his suit in the bathroom, knowing that it was probably best if he kept at least a little physical distance between them for the rest of the day. _Or the rest of their lives_ , a little voice reminded him. Reality was about to come crashing down. 

Only it was more spectacular than he’d thought. When he spotted Wanda, she was standing by the desk, looking down at something. She hadn’t even changed, the towel was still wrapped around her body, but she’d dropped the one from her hair. He was about to call out to her, but she looked up and the words died in his throat. The look on her face was pure fear. She stepped back a little, gripping the side of the desk defensively, even though he was yards away.

Then he realized what she was holding. _Photographs_. _Of her_. The same photographs that the PI had taken when he was doing surveillance on her… only a week ago. It seemed like so much longer. His blood ran cold. He realized how that must look, and tried to step forward, but Wanda tried to step back again, so he stopped.

She held the photographs out, and said, “Why do you have these photographs of me?” and then she grabbed a stack of paper, “Why do you have my name? My papers? Who are you? What do you want from me?” She sounded almost hysterical. 

He took a step closer, almost lost for words again. Swallowing, knowing it was now or never, he said, almost pleading, “Wanda, please listen to me. I’m- I’m your brother. We’re twins, we were seperated at birth, those photographs are from the PI I hired to find you,” he finished, almost resigned. And then, as an afterthought, “I’m sorry.”

It almost didn’t register to her, as she met his eyes, but there was something there- something true enough, anyway- that made her believe him. “I-” She gripped the desk even harder, looking between the photographs of her and him, pleading, with dawning horror. 

“Wanda,” he said, almost pleading, before she could get out a word, “I didn’t mean for this to happen, I just-” he cut off, “I was hoping you’d come home with me.” 

This time, she didn’t back off. Somewhere between his words, she’d gotten angry. Instead she moved towards him, on the offensive, till she could look up at him angrily, “What kind of sick monster are you?” she jabbed angrily, shoving the photographs at him. “It wasn’t just once, either! I can _somewhat_ understand once, the way I was pushing, but instead of stopping, and going, ‘What the hell did I just do?’ you know what you did? You did it again! And again!” she said. “Fuck you, Pietro,” she spat. 

Pietro took a step back, not knowing what to do. She didn’t even turn back as she stormed out, pulling her clothes on in a swift motion, slamming the door behind her as she left. It took him an hour to realize he hadn’t even paid her. It seemed silly, really, but that’s what she was, wasn’t she? 

* * *

Pietro didn’t know what to do, so he... didn’t. He texted his secretary to move all his meetings, ordered the most expensive bottle from the room service menu, and then something stronger from the concierge, and didn’t do anything for two whole days. He ignored his phone, and it probably died around the time the concierge brought up the scotch, but he didn’t plug it in until Friday. It had been charging twenty minutes, and Pietro had just stepped from the bathroom- shaving after nearly a week- when the phone started ringing. 

When he picked up the phone, Lorna practically yelled in his ear. “Pietro! You were supposed to be back two days ago! What the fuck have you been doing? We have meetings! I _nearly_ booked a flight down to come get you myself. Only Linda told me you’d already spoken to _her_ , but not your own _sister_.”

Pietro paused. But he took a deep breath, shaking his head, “God Lorna this is going to sound so fucked up over the phone-” 

“I’m waiting,” she said impatiently. 

“Wanda is a prostitute. And I slept with her,” he said, thinking it was probably better to just ‘rip off the bandage’ as they say. 

And the line was silent, almost long enough to think she hung up, and there was a bit of static. Lorna’s voice was hard, and for a moment, sounded exactly like their father’s, “Come home immediately. Come straight to Serval. And don’t talk to _anyone_. Not even a goddamn lawyer.” 

She hung up and he could almost imagine her breaking something, probably, and then going to sit down in her oversized office chair and probably contemplate how best to murder him. He’d done a lot of fucked up things in his life, but this, by far, was the most fucked up. While he could picture her destroying everything he owned, and then maybe punching him in the face- he couldn’t, couldn’t even imagine what he was going to say to her in person.

And he loved Lorna, she was his sister, but god, he deserved whatever she was gonna do.

* * *

"So what you're telling me," Lorna said as soon as she locked them both in the conference room, "is that our sister- your twin- is a prostitute and the first thing you did, instead of telling her this, was to fuck her?"

"Yes," Pietro said, sitting down. 

"Ugh Jesus Pietro, that's disgusting! What were you thinking?" Lorna said.

"I wasn't! Not with my head!" he said, putting his head in his hands. 

"Yeah, clearly with your dick! Jesus," she said. "You're sure you used protection all the time? You didn't get her pregnant? That's the _last_ thing we need right now,” she sounded exhausted, and her fingernails looked looked worn and bitten from nerves. 

"Of course I did, Lorna! And you're seriously worried about the merger right now?" he looked up at her incredulously. 

"Yes! I am! As you should be! Because this is our job!" Lorna insisted. She dropped down into the chair across from him, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Are you sure no one saw you asking around for her?”

“Yes! I did actually get one thing right, Lorna,” she scoffed, and he shot her a glare, “I found her through that creepy cajun friend of yours- whatever his name-”

“Remy,” Lorna supplied.

“Remy, right. He’s the only one who actually knew who she was,” Pietro sighed, leaning back. “Why aren’t you screaming at me right now? Or calling a lawyer to get me fired? I committed incest!”

“Because you’re my brother, jackass, and I love you!” Lorna said, hitting his arm. “And that is very hard to do right now, _believe me_.” She collapsed in her own chair, pushing her chair backwards to the other side of the table. “And because you saved my life, in more than one way- I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you. I think we all deserve a few fuck ups, once in awhile. Although you might have used up all your discretionary fuck up funds with this one.”

He leaned forward, “Lorna-”

"Whoa, sister kisser, you stay on that side of the table," Lorna said, holding up her hand when he went to stand up.

Pietro's face fell, "Lorna, I'm not going to-" 

She rolled her eyes, "I know, brother, I actually grew up with you, remember? I'm just worried I might punch you again if you get within three feet of me, for being a fucking idiot.” She sighed again, dropping back down into the chair and pinching the bridge of her nose. “We’ve really fucked up this time, haven’t we?”

“Yeah.”

“Also, you’re disgusting. And I’m not talking to you.”

* * *

And so Lorna fixed his schedule.

“I’m not your secretary, Pietro,” she reminded him, as she compiled a list of names from his computer, Pietro peering over her shoulder. 

“Yeah but you do this so much better than Linda.”

After that, they went their separate ways. Lorna took the elevator down and out to her apartment, in of the other ten buildings they owned in town, and Pietro sat behind his desk in the dark, staring at a photograph of Wanda in the blue light of the computer. When he cleaned up the hotel room while packing, he tossed absolutely every paper into the waste bins: the merger files, the copy of the Garth meeting transcript he was sent, and everything he had on Wanda. But after sparing glances at the bin for the rest of the cleaning session, he finally fished one of the photographs out of the bin, tucking it into his now-empty briefcase. It was one where she was looking down, almost composing herself, as she was bathed in the red light of a neon sign. It was the eighth in the series, just before she looked up and spotted her John for the evening. He hadn’t stopped looking at the photograph since Lorna left. 

He couldn’t help it. He missed Wanda. It was absolutely ridiculous, they’d only known each other less than three days, but they’d spent those days in each other’s company entirely. He’d gotten used to someone sleeping on a pillow beside him, again, and the way her hair smelled after a shower with the mini bottles of shampoo that never quite had enough to really wash anything. He missed her smile, the one that could morph from innocent laughter over coffee at midnight to predatory as she went down on him. He wanted to know more about her life. He wanted to know how on earth they were allowed to be separated as children, what got him sent to America, and why she had to witness the horror of her home literally crumble down around her. He wanted to know more about her time at rallys, her favorite color, and he wanted to waste more time with her. Pietro Maximoff _never_ wasted his time. But spending the day in bed with her was all worth it. 

He couldn’t separate lost sister-Wanda from the sex worker-Wanda he’d known, because they were the one and the same. 

And so Pietro buried himself in business, tucking the photograph under all the files in his bottom drawer, only pulling it out when he was alone at night. He rescheduled his meeting with Lemar Smaug of Techno Inc. for a week later, and called Donna from New Orleans with Lorna’s guidance, and finally convinced his sister to talk to him again by the time Mr. Smaug’s meeting, by bribing her with coffee and the weird pre-cut fruit baskets.

* * *

As soon as the meeting with Techno Inc. was over, and everyone save for Lorna and Pietro were out of the conference room, Lorna collapsed in her chair, breathing a sigh of relief. “Thank god that’s finally over. I was almost worried with all the rescheduling, but I think it went well. After this, I’m taking a vacation.” She stood up, and started collecting the scattered papers left over the conference table. “Well?” Lorna said, expectantly, “are you going to help me or what?”

“Oh, yes,” Pietro said, standing up, taking his feet from where they were propped on the table. He reached across the table for the signed contract of intention, but before he could grab it, there was a light knock on the door, and Linda stuck her head in. 

“Um, I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Maximoff,” Linda said, peeking her head into the room, "There's someone here to see you- she says she's your sister?" 

The two of them froze, and Lorna turned to Pietro, the two of them sharing surprised looks before Lorna cleared her throat, and said, “Send her in.” Linda nodded, and stepped out, shutting the door behind herself.

Lorna stood tall, straightening her skirt, her look of relief turning into worry again. She turned to Pietro and said, “Do I look alright?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Yes?” sticking his hands into his pockets. 

She narrowed her eyes, and said, “Unlike you, I didn’t already screw this over. I want to meet my sister. And leave a good impression.”

A moment later, Linda reopened the door, and from behind her stepped Wanda. Pietro felt as though the air had been knocked out of him. She was nervous, tugging at her sleeves, Linda closing the door behind her. Wanda had her arms wrapped around herself, and she looked like she wasn't sure she belonged. But she looked good, Pietro couldn’t help but think. 

Lorna stepped forward, holding out her hand with an eager smile, "Hi Wanda, I'm your sister Lorna," Wanda took her hand, "And clearly you've met our brother, Pietro," she said coldly, shooting him a nasty look. 

Wanda laughed quietly, "Yes, I have."

* * *

They have a whole lot of things to discuss, and Lorna was _not_ done discussing them, but when Wanda finally said, after an hour of the two of them practically interrogating each other and Pietro watching from the other side of the table, “Lorna, would you mind if I spoke to Pietro alone, please? We, um, have to talk about a few things,” Lorna couldn’t do anything but agree, promising to leave them alone- but not _too_ alone, with a glance towards their brother- closing the door softly behind herself, probably to terrorize Linda at her desk. 

The two remaining siblings in the room didn’t speak. Pietro politely didn’t look at her, and Wanda stared down at her hands on the table. The room remained silent, till finally Wanda said, “I don’t know.”

The sound was enough to make Pietro look up, and frown, “Don’t know what?”

“I don’t know why I came back. Not back,” she said with a sigh, correcting herself, “came to you.” He wasn’t sure if she wanted him to speak, but she was still looking frustratedly up at the ceiling. “I was really really angry…” she said with another sigh, “I don’t understand why you did it. No, don’t say anything yet,” she said, causing him to shut his mouth. “I don’t understand it, but I want to. Was I really that- tempting?” she said, but it wasn’t arrogance, it was confusion. “Or are we just that fucked up?

“But I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” she admitted, looking over at him. Then, she stood up, and walked around the shorter side of the conference table, stopping right next to him. He was still watching her, cautiously. 

She reached forward, tugging on the sleeve of his suit to make him stand. “What I think I’m trying to say…” she said, looking into his eyes, still tugging on his sleeve, her fingers brushing his wrist, “is that I was wondering if you were still thinking about me too?”

He had so much to say to her. He needed to apologize again, to try to explain his actions, even if he couldn’t fully explain them to himself. He needed to tell her about all of the times he spent wondering the exact same things. But all he said, breathless, was, “ _Yes_.”

**Author's Note:**

> ALSO I hate reading "this is my first sex scene" at the beginning of a fic because then I EXPECT it to be terrible, so I won't say till after you've read it all: this was my first time fully writing porn, because I used to get really embarrassed, but I've found sitting in your living room in the middle of the day gets rid of that.
> 
> I hope y'all liked it. I might write a short, like 1k sequel to resolve the somewhat open ending I left. (this is now a definite, subscribe to the series for when I post it)
> 
> If you're interested: [here's a bad photoset I made before writing this fic.](http://scarlettwittch.tumblr.com/post/98697413602/aus-ill-never-write-hooker-au-hypnotizing-and)


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